


Sunset

by MayhemHeart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Greg figures it out, Greg is Oblivious, M/M, Mycroft tries, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Protective Greg, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayhemHeart/pseuds/MayhemHeart
Summary: “It’s not like you to forget your brolly,” Greg laughs. His hands are in his overcoat pockets, and he shifts to knock his shoulder playfully into Mycroft’s bicep.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 38
Kudos: 246
Collections: JustMystradeThoughts Plot Bunny Adoptions





	1. Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr prompt](https://paialovespie.tumblr.com/post/633860987246837760/just-mystrade-thoughts) from Paialovespie 
> 
> "Mycroft has been delicately flirting with Greg for ages, but Mycroft is very subtle and Greg is very oblivious."

They stand shoulder to shoulder under the small storefront awning waiting for Mycroft’s driver to arrive. There’s a delay with his ride, and if Anthea’s smug tone was anything to go by, Mycroft suspects the holdup is for his benefit. The downpour that made them take shelter has slowed down to a lazy drizzle, and the rest of Lestrade’s team is long gone, so it’s just the two of them waiting as the sun slowly starts to set. 

“It’s not like you to forget your brolly,” Greg laughs. His hands are in his overcoat pockets, and he shifts to knock his shoulder playfully into Mycroft’s bicep. 

“I have found myself distracted as of late,” Mycroft says, appreciating Greg’s handsome profile.

“Yeah? Stress will do that. You should take a few days off and relax.”

“Ah, if only my position afforded me that luxury, but if I were able to  _ take a day off _ , I would find myself alone, and that idea is less than favorable.”

Greg looks at him in surprise, eyebrows raised, “I always thought you had someone waiting for you at home.”

Mycroft shakes his head, “No, no one at home.”

Greg hums, “Have you… have you tried dating? I’ve been trying myself, but I feel too old to be going out to the clubs.”

Mycroft takes a long look at Greg’s brown eyes glittering in the vanishing daylight and the shadows that caress his face in the same spots Mycroft’s fingers yearn to touch. 

“No. There is someone I am quite taken with, but I am afraid he might not be interested.”

If Greg is surprised by the admission, he doesn't show it; he just nods in understanding, “Have you tried asking him?”

Mycroft tilts his head slightly, “I have not. We are both married to our jobs, so to speak, and I worry that it may cause issues.”

“Well, that’s perfect, innit? He would have an understanding of what it’s like to have a demanding job. God knows it was the main reason my marriage went to shit. Granted, I should have-”

Mycroft cuts him off, “You are an indispensable asset to the yard, Detective Inspector. Never apologize for that. Anyone would be exceptionally fortuitous to have you as a partner.”

The grin Greg flashes Mycroft is stunning, and he huffs out a low, “Ta,” before looking out towards the setting sun. They stand in comfortable silence for a few moments before Greg nods towards the sunset, “Now that is a pretty sight.”

The vermillion and indigo sky is cut through with rays of deep gold, but Mycroft can’t take his eyes off Greg. The other man’s lips curve into a soft smile, and Mycroft wants to press his lips to the laugh lines at the corner of Greg’s eyes. The evanescent rays gleam in Greg’s silver hair and kiss gold leaf highlights along his tan skin.

“Breathtakingly gorgeous,” Mycroft agrees softly. 

Greg nods but doesn’t look back at him. Mycroft isn’t sure if he ready for Greg to see the open affection on his face or not, but he holds his breath anyway. He silently wills the other man to turn and see how much Mycroft adores him. The black car pulling up beside them forces Mycroft to tear his gaze away from Greg and acknowledge his driver. 

“Allow me to offer you a ride home,” Mycroft says, “a thank you for keeping me company.”

Greg waves him off and points down the road, “Naw, I’m just a few blocks away, and I don’t want to get your car all wet; I’m more soaked than you. Besides,” he chuckles, “it’s not exactly a hardship to spend time with you. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

Mycroft tilts his head and lets a small smile form on his face, “It is  _ always _ a pleasure, Detective Inspector.”

“Greg,” the other man corrects and smiles back. 

“Greg,” Mycroft amends. 

With his hands back in his pockets, Greg starts to walk backward into the shadows, “Have a good night, Mycroft.”

“Goodnight, Greg.”

Greg’s smile grows before he turns and walks off into the night. When Mycroft slides into the back of his car, he’s surprised when the partition to the driver compartment slides opens, and Anthea’s exasperated face appears on the passenger side. 

“Sir,” she says, and the unspoken reprimand weighs heavy in that single word. She doesn’t even have to say the words, “I gave you the perfect opportunity to ask him out, and you failed.” He knows. He sighs wistfully, maybe next time. 

“To the office, please, Anthea.”

Anthea gives a sympathetic nod, “yes, Sir.”


	2. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY - here's part two for everyone! :) 
> 
> Written very quickly during lunch and with an exhausted brain, so please forgive any mistakes <3
> 
> No smut just more fluff. 
> 
> Credit to purplehedgehog13 for the Chapter Title.

  
  
  


They stand shoulder to shoulder in comfortable, tired silence. While they have crossed paths a few times, it’s been a few months since Mycroft has found himself alone with Greg Lestrade. A mysterious murder in a park turned out to be a murdered M16 agent, which brought in Mycroft much to Sherlock’s ire. Mycroft was used to his brother’s sharp barbs and didn’t even blink at the harsh insults. One look at Sherlock and John’s tension concluded that the odd couple was having a tiff, and Mycroft was always Sherlock’s favorite to take his frustrations out on. It was predictable and to be expected. 

Clearly, Greg does not agree. A muscle flicks angrily in his jaw, and his lips press into a thin line at Sherlock’s words. It only takes a few moments before Greg is telling Sherlock to take a walk and the firm authority in his voice sends a thrill down Mycroft’s spine. He doesn’t need saving, especially from his own brother, but the way Greg’s body moves to stand slightly in front of Mycroft as if to shield him makes Mycroft’s heart flutter painfully. The man is not even conscious of his movements; his gallantry instinctive. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes but leaves, John following after giving them a sympathetic shrug. 

Greg blows out a harsh breath and runs a hand through his already ruffled hair, “Sorry about that.” 

It’s early morning, and the sky is just starting to brighten on the horizon. A thin beam of light highlights the silver in Greg’s hair. There’s stress around his eyes, eyebrows creasing with concern, and his shoulders carry tension. The worry on his face as he looks at Mycroft is… different. Does Greg think Sherlock’s words truly hurt him? He long ago learned to let the unkind adjectives drip off him like rain. Mycroft wants to cup Greg’s neck and smooth his thumbs over the tight muscles in the man’s jaw. To rub softly at his temples, easing the headache the DI is trying to ignore. 

“You are hardly responsible for my brother's behavior, Detective inspector.” 

Greg huffs out a small laugh, lips curling slightly at the corners, “True, but I don’t like him talking to you like that. You do so much for him.”

Mycroft doesn’t know what to say to that, except to raise an eyebrow, which only makes Greg’s whole face break out into a wide smile before turning to face the rising sun. Mycroft feels a touch of deja vu, only this time there is no need for them to linger. Everything has been documented; the crime scene is already taken care of. Mycroft really should call his driver, he does have work to do, but he cannot bring himself to move. Greg doesn’t seem inclined to leave either. 

The sun is spilling inky rays of color across the sky, outlining the low cirrocumulus clouds with rose pink dye—golden rays of deep amber paint Greg in its light, accentuating the warmth in his eyes. Mycroft could drown in their depths, the color soothing like expensive cognac on a cold night. Even tired and weary, fighting a tension headache, clothes rumpled from working over 24 hours, the man in front of him is beautiful. 

Mycroft wonders what he would look like, relaxed and rested, curled up on the sofa wearing soft clothes. He imagines Greg on _his_ sofa, curled up against hisside. In _his_ bed, Greg gently smiling up at him as morning beams tumble from the bedroom window across the bedsheets. Mycroft tears his gaze away from Greg and forces himself to watch the sunrise. The maddening wishes for Greg to be a part of his life have no place in his cold realistic world. His mind tries to delete the images, but his heart clings to them desperately like a life preserver in a stormy sea. 

The silence starts to bother Mycroft; his traitorous heart wants him to spill its secrets to Greg. To tell him how the only thing he needs in life is Greg’s heartbeat next to his. Mycroft sighs softly, watching the pale blue of the sky deepen in color and quotes, “We need to be reminded sometimes that a sunrise last but a few minutes. But its beauty can burn in our hearts eternally.” 

"Breathtakingly gorgeous,” Greg breathes next to him. Mycroft blinks and turns to find Greg staring at him, a shy smile on his lips. 

“It took me a while to realize,” Greg says, reaching out gloved hands to tug on the lapels of Mycroft’s jacket, pulling him closer. “As Sherlock likes to remind me often, I _am_ an idiot.”

Greg’s eyes shine with purpose before he’s brushing his mouth against Mycroft’s. The touch of their lips makes Mycroft’s heart sing, and he surges forward, parting his lips as Greg pushes up into the kiss. Mycroft devours the softness of Greg’s lips, hands coming up to cup Greg’s face, and he mourns the fact he’s wearing gloves, unable to feel the other man’s skin. 

Greg pulls back, cheeks red and lips moist. “So there is someone I am quite taken with,” he says cheekily. “We are both married to our jobs, but I think it would work out perfectly.”

Mycroft swallows, hope is rapidly filling his chest, and he feels like his lungs are going to burst but -- “It will not be easy. I am a difficult man, Gregory.”

Greg chuckles and gives him a tender kiss, “Nothing worth having comes easy, and you are worth it, Mycroft.”

Mycroft smiles, “As are you.” He clears his throat, “Would...you like to accompany me for breakfast?”

The grin on Greg’s face is irresistibly devastating, “I would love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Mycroft says is from R. A. Salvatore because I like to think Mycroft is a secret SciFi/Fantasy nerd.


End file.
